All Your Base Are Belong to U.S.

Does anyone really believe it when politicians talk about bringing the troops home sometime soon? Are there people out there that think we're actually going to start packing up this traveling road show and head for home? Or am I just being cynical and paranoid again?

The reason why I ask?

President Bush made a speech today that more or less said the troops will come home once the Iraqis are ready to run/defend the country themselves.

Which, at the rate things are going over there, is not going to be any time soon.

And that's exactly what they want. If you think Bush, Cheney, Rummy, and the rest of the architects of this war want their boys home any time soon, you're dreaming.

The way I see it, the whole point of the war was to get a beachhead into the Mideast. Iraq was merely the "easiest" place to start. Old grudges against Saddam, phantom WMDs, and now the noble cause of spreading freedom and liberty, all of it has been just convenient excuses to get our troops into a nice, permanent home in the mideast.

(Oh, and one that doesn't piss off people as much as our presence in Saudi Arabia did.)

A major problem with coordinating any long-term military action in the mideast has been the difficulty in finding friendly airspace, places to refuel planes, store troops, tanks, etc. This is why we set up so many military bases across Europe and the Far East after World War II. If the shit went down again, we would have a better starting point than last time.

And now, if we ever want to throw down with Syria, Iran, or Pakistan, we have a convenient home base in Iraq to start from.

That's what scares me most. That this Iraq debacle is just the beginning. The prelude to another Great War.

Maybe I'm just repeating what other people have said better, but that's the way I see it, folks.

The proof on the bases is here and here and here. And here.

And here.

I'm watching the Fighting Illini take on the Tar Heels for the first time since Illinois lost to them during the NCAA championship game last spring.

And all I can think of are these four words:



I fucking hate Dick Vitale.

Okay, so that was five. I threw the "fucking" in there at the last minute.

Seriously, why does this guy have a career?

It must be an East Coast thing.

The unthinkable has happened:

I actually got a normal night's sleep last night.

I fell asleep watching Family Guy. Before 11:00. On a school night.

No midnight snacking, no belly full of wine. I slept through the night and woke 8 hour later.

I actually feel normal, today. Like a real person.

Is this what the rest of you feel like?

"Well besides that Mrs. Lincoln, how was the show?"

Tony Pierce paid a visit to us bloggers/buzznetter in the Chicago area. The husband-and-wife team of Di and Alex came along as we made our way through horrific traffic and cold Chicago streets, stopping for Thai food in Lincoln Park and then finally arriving at Uncommon Ground to meet up with whomever thought it would be a good idea to meet a bunch of strangers who spend too much time with their computers.

Actually, I like the idea of meeting someone behind the clever blog nickname or fancy photos. As much as I love technology and new e-trends, in the end it's all about making connections between people, finding new ways of communicating with friends and strangers from around the world.

And so last night I met Dave the PA, Byron and Chris, two girls whose names I can't remember, and a fellow Bradley alum named Bob. We watched Tony suck down a lot of rum and discuss the merits of 'shrooms and acid (no thanks), and of course we took a lot of pictures.



It felt good to get out of the damn house, where I had been spending far too much time lately being all mopey and depressed. For some reason I just couldn't do family get-togethers this week. So apologies to anyone who I abandoned this week; I just preferred to be alone.

Thankfully I had a couple of interesting get-togethers to remind me that life is pretty good, and there are friends everywhere you go. It was great seeing Diana again; since she left for school we don't get a chance to see each other as much any more (it's very weird not having her around for Limelight).

Lots and lots of pictures at my Buzznet site, along with most everyone else's links from above.

Uncle Hamish made homemade ice cream today using cream, sugar, and some frozen nitrogen he got from the place where they freeze bull semen.

Bull semen was not on the menu this year, but a deep-fried turkey was, along with other Fraley staples such as Eagle Brand pie and homemade french fries.

There is another Thanksgiving going on right now that I could have gone to, but I just didn't have the energy. Too many thought about a third family celebration that is once again happening without my sister and I.

Sometimes I really hate the holidays. Sometimes they're just a bitch to get through. Sometimes I just dread them, and so hanging at the bar with Jeremy and Janie and Jason was just fine for me last year. No guilt, no lonely feelings.

Last night one of my old hometown gangs got together for the first time in over ten years. The gang that used to hang in Bonnie's basement until all hours of the night, listening to Sinead O'Conner and freaking out over numerous Pet Semetary viewings.

Mark is balder than me and most people that were married are now divorced. Kirsten and I wailed on some karaoke and Ort introduced his 21-year old bride from Austin.

Yep, 21. Blows my mind. She was cool, too. And no one seemed freaked out. Good for him.

The wind is blowing and the temperature is well below freezing. I have some nice, dry firewood and I'm itching to try out the new fireplace.

I wish I had some leftover turkey.

Last night I wrapped up work for the week, and started Thanksgiving break healthy and (mostly) hearty. Drank it up with some of the cranky LB teachers and then met up with one of the Limelight College Girls Gone Wild for some late-night hanging out. I could go on and on about all the hot sex we had and make this sound like a Tony Pierce post, but we did no such thing. I have some standards, you know. Not many, but some.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you out in the blogosphere; I hope all your traveling and eating and family-sparring goes well. If you're a blogger or a Buzznetter and you live near Chicago, head out the the Meet-up this Saturday night. If all goes well I'll be attending as well.

Now I'm going to go on a 5-day bender, first by heading out to Sandwich to meet up with some of the old crowd and drink beer and tell lies and discuss how much hair we've lost, respectively.

Peace, Ya'll.

I ended up writing so much about Rome in the comments, that I thought I'd just post it up as a regular entry. If you're not into the show, feel free to ignore it.



Sylkk and Hamish: Yeah, nothing is going to top that arena scene where Lucius goes to school on that gladiator with the skull-head mace. Aside from being bloody as hell, it was such an emotional scene, with Pullo yelling "Thirteenth!" over and over again.

Aside from the tale of Caesar and the fall of the Roman Republic, Rome was really about how soldiers can't seem to function in a world outside of warfare. Vorenus' role of politician never seemed to suit him, and that moment where he jumps into the arena was his admission that he'll never really know any other life. Even though Pullo was "dead" to him, Vorenus stares at Pullo fighting for his life, and realizes he's a man fighting to stay relevant in a world that has quickly forgotten all that he did to save it.

These two men defined themselves and found meaning as Roman soldiers in the 13th Legion, and once that role was done, they were broken, lost men. Vorenus becomes a puppet to Caesar; Pullo declines into depression, thuggery, and hired murder, but his most vicious act comes when he kills the lover-slave of his beloved Eirene, (an act I'm still trying to rationalize, especially since she now seems to be all lovey-dovey with Pullo.)

A sad ending to the show, but apparently HBO has ordered a second season, which won't arrive until 2007. Sometimes it was boring and confusing, sometimes frustrating (A big battle is starting! But we don't have the budget to show it, so....look over there! Hey, the battle's done. We won!), but it was always interesting and gripping, and well-acted by all.

The Rome Season Finale: Oh my God!!!!!! I can't believe Caesar was killed in the Senate like that! I didn't even see that coming! Now I have to wait until next year to find out what happens next!!!!!!!!

Oops. That's right. I was a history major. Plus I read a lot of Shakespeare. I know exactly what happens next. Marc Antony gets all up in Brutus' shit and lots of people get killed. Then Octavian (the kid what fucked his sister) becomes Caesar Augustus, Rome's first Emperor, and the Pax Romana ensues.

Knowing your history can be like knowing all the spoilers in a film before you see it.

I seem to be feeling a bit more normal. Well, as normal as I can feel. A bit more energy, not as much coughing. And I feel tired right now, so I'm crossing my fingers hoping that I sleep well tonight.

Thanksgiving is coming up. Two of them this year, and one starts at 12:30. That should keep me from reenacting last year's Thanksgiving, where I spent most of the day hunched over the bar with honestbush. Last year the big feast didn't start until the evening, so I had all day to waste, drinking Bloody Mary's with the boys, and later my sister and brutha-in-law. It was a great time, actually, even though I got a little sick in the bathroom. Watching Grey's Anatomy tonight, where everyone does their best to avoid the big sit-down meal, reminded me of that day.

What is it about holidays that makes us look forward to them and simultaneously want to avoid them at all costs?

I actually could go to three T-Givings this year, and possibly four, if I wanted to crash the Fauth Thanksgiving, which I don't get invited to anymore, because Dad will be there, and that family doesn't want to cause a scene in front of Grandma, Who Doesn't Know The Truth, so Janie and I don't get the golden ticket anymore.

That's one of the many wonderful qualities of dear old Dad. He sold Janie and I out so he could save face with the rest of the clan. Even after sis and I gave him chance after chance to fix things. And yet he's the one NOT dying of cancer.

I got the Beatle albums hung up today. One step closer to having the house DONE.

A quick story on the albums: they are from the collections of Mom and Dave, and they frame one and give it to me as a Christmas present every year (hence the number of American albums.) They've actually run out of ones they owned, and now they search for original vinyl copies.

They are the coolest fucking things in the world.

For all you twee Belle and Sebastian fans out there, I would suggest going here or here to get the last news, including info about a new album out in February and something about a download-only live album out next month.

Discuss.

The Saturday after Thanksgiving Buzznet is hosting a meet-up in Chicago. Tony Pierce, the expatriate from Hanover Park will be MCing. I'm thinking seriously of going, and I encourage other Windy City Buzznetters to come with.

I may have a family function that day, so I'm a bit torn. It's not every day you get to participate in a gathering of anonymous people who post pictures of themselves and random friends online and then comment back and forth about it.

What shall I do, America?

Jesus H. Perry White Fucking Christ.

The Superman Returns teaser trailer is online and ready to view.

It's sooooo good.

The best thing they ever could have done with this movie?

Hearken back to the 1978 original film. The Marlon Brando narration. The John Williams score. (Which is the best damn piece of musice he ever wrote. Better than Star Wars. Better than Indy Jones. That music sounds like what it must be like to live in a world of Heroes.)

Go watch it. It makes me feel like I'm six again.

Musings about Music

So there's this indie-pop band called Tiger Trap that apparently existed for a brief moment in 1993. And they're supposedly really influential and kind of good but kind of twee at the same time. I hear them a lot on Soma FM, and it's pretty good stuff. Got the album from iTunes yesterday. They sound like The Pillows, only with chicks. And they're not Japanese.

I must have missed Tiger Trap the first time around. In 1993 I was listening to the first Belly album a lot, along with Daniel Lanois' second album. And In Utero; I prefer that album over Nevermind. Albini scruffed up Nirvana where Butch Vig smoothed them out too much.

I also remember liking Velocity Girl then, but I never bothered to buy any of their albums, even though I still remember they were on Sub Pop, which was a strange label for a jangly girl-lead-singer band to be on.


I was a junior in college and I lived in a big house in Peoria with three other guys. I don't talk about those days much. They were a blast, and horrible sometimes, but mostly a lot of fun. But there isn't much point to rehash all those old tales. Most of us have moved on from those days, one way or another.

It is now Wednesday, and why haven't I bought the new Wilco live album?

I urge all of you to buy it; having seen them live over a dozen times I can promise you an enjoyable listen. They are, in my opinion, the best live band around.

And yes, that is a picture of the current line-up of Wilco posing with Christopher Walken. I found the picture here, to give proper credit.

Maybe they thought "She's a Jar" needed more cowbell?

It's 12:30 and I can't sleep.

Mom came over and we talked and talked and I felt good was getting things off my chest and I thought I would be able to sleep tonight.

I lie in bed and try to sleep and everything rolls around in my head and I cannot. make. it. stop.

Uncle has cancer in brain. Fat Dad. Girls. Lonely. Letter of Recommendation still not finished. Thanksgiving. Limelight. Block scenes. School. Crazy ladies. Mystery person who insults me on my blog. Replace light over stove.

It's 2:46 and I can't sleep.

Eat a turkey sandwich. Drink a glass of milk. Watch multiple episodes of Scrubs. Read a book about grammar. (Seriously, wouldn't that put anyone to sleep?)

I have a meeting in three hours. I have another meeting in nine hours.

Nothing works. Drink myself to sleep? Yep, I've tried it. Hate doing it. Won't do it. Over the counter sleep pills? Tried them too. Had some wine earlier. Don't want to mix the two.

I've drank NyQuil when I'm not sick and I've tried driving around to make me tired and I've tried falling asleep on the couch (you know, to change it up a bit!) and nothing works.

Some nights, I sleep fine. I put together a nice streak of about 3-4 nights a couple of weeks ago where I was in bed and asleep well before midnight.

Mostly, though, it's all about fear. I crawl under the covers and this fear that I Won't Be Able to Fall Asleep grips me and accomplishes its mission.

I fucking hate this. And do you know why you're reading this sad-sack bullshit? Because I'm trying yet another method of falling asleep. Write down all my little worries and see if that gets them out of my brain for a while.

It's 4:23 and I can't sleep.

I heard about this book on Bella's site, and immediately went out to buy it.

A book about punctuation.

That's how big of a nerd I am.

Additional Nerd Info: somehow I had to cancel my old Skype profile, so I now have a new one under brianfauth. And I lost any profile information I had before, so if you feel like emailing me your Skype info, I will add you to my contacts again. Or for the first time.

Here's one of the things I'm very lucky to have:

I have a cool Mom.

Mom has never driven me into therapy, Mom has never nagged me or chipped away at my self-esteem (she must know how low it is to begin with), and Mom doesn't unfairly compare me to other people.

All in all, she's done a pretty good job raising me. I see so many other people, in real life or in the television programs, that are fucked up because of their mothers. Thankfully, I don't have that problem. I hold no grudges, no long-term damage, and no hurt feelings against my mom. She did well, raising me. Stayed out of my way, let me make my own decisions, for good or for bad.

She balances out my father quite well. Who, as some of you may know, was a world-class shit.

Remember how I dressed up as Steve Zissou (Bill Murray's character in The Life Aquatic) for Halloween? One of my favorite lines in that movie is when Zissou explains why he never made contact with his illegitimate son.

"I hate fathers, and I never wanted to be one."

Yeah, boo hoo, I'm so tragic. That's what therapy and anti-depressants are for, which, until recently, did wonders for me. Now I'm an official hermit who never wants to go back to work again because it's the most pointless waste of my time.

But enough of that tragedy! What I really need to talk about is my cool-ass chairman Mao watch, or as I like to call it, my Mickey Mao watch. I got it from a guy named Tom Bennett, who is father to Emily Bennett, that sweet, pretty Limelight member you may have seen as Lady Capulet last summer. Tom was in China and thought I'd get a kick out of the watch.

On a side note, Tom and his wife are good friends with Julie, who was Emily's 4th grade teacher. They became good friends and get together all the time. I think that's a very cool thing. I like it when people make friends outside the "normal" standard for friends. I have friends from 12-42 and change, and it's a wonderful thing.

One more thing regarding the watch: apparently Mao's hand moves, but I haven't seen it yet. Also, it's not battery-powered. It's supposed to get energy just from being strapped to your wrist, but so far the time is stuck at 7:26 PM and shows no signs of moving.

Fucking Commies.

Oh yeah, and I updated my Wish List at Amazon. So people who love me can buy me stuff as a Christmas declaration of their undying love for me.

Nothing says love like a bunch of books and DVDs.

Congratulations go out to the Eric and Erica (also known as the Duder and Wife). They just added a Duder Jr. to the family. Zander was 7 pounds and he's doing great.

I wonder how long it will take until he starts sneaking beers from the old man?

Reason #549 the Religious Right drives me crazy...


From CNN.com:

"Conservative Christian broadcaster Pat Robertson told citizens of a Pennsylvania town that they had rejected God by voting their school board out of office for supporting "intelligent design" and warned them Thursday not to be surprised if disaster struck."

So...because the people of Dover, PA voted out a School Board that suppoarted Intelligent Design, God will rain his wrath down upon them?

He actually believes that this will happen? God will take time out of his (presumably) busy schedule to attack Dover, PA with a tornado, mudslide, terrorist attack, or, at the least, deny them a white Christmas?

More from Robertson:

"I'd like to say to the good citizens of Dover: if there is a disaster in your area, don't turn to God, you just rejected Him from your city," Robertson said on his daily television show broadcast from Virginia, "The 700 Club."

"And don't wonder why He hasn't helped you when problems begin, if they begin. I'm not saying they will, but if they do, just remember, you just voted God out of your city. And if that's the case, don't ask for His help because he might not be there," he said.

Read the entire article here. And thanks to Nistheone for posting this bit of fucked-up news on his blog.

And you wonder why I'm always ragging on the fundys? If anyone believes that God will punish a town, or a country, or a political party for their actions or beliefs, then you worship a strange God. Isn't God/Jesus all about love and compassion?

Where's the love, Pat?

Last weekend, aside from a late-Friday night in Naperville, I stayed in and never left the house.

Took most of the week off to try and get well; have now spent second weekend exclusively at home. Can't tell if I'm feeling better or not.

This is what I've done with myself:

Watched a few movies: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Me and You and Everyone We Know, and most of Die Hard.

Watched a lot of TV, including most of Season 1 of Scrubs, the second season of Da Ali G Show, the My Name is Earl marathon on Saturday, a horrid SNL episode, and the usual Prime Time business.

Read: Inkheart, Watchmen, The History of the Lord of the Rings, and the Sunday Chicago Tribune.

Slept. A lot. Except for the last two nights, where I somehow cannot fall asleep until 4-5 AM.

Dreamt some incredibly bizarre dreams. Last night I created an entire movie, from start to finish, in my head. It involved people jumping between several different dimensions, but mostly took place at places of business. There was an indoor baseball game, an abandoned baby, much wandering between dimensions by way of electrical conduit systems, and a couple beautiful women.

Pondered the reappearance of K in my life. Pondered other women in my life as well. (That is not K, by the way. That is Jessica, formerly of "EricandJessica."

Came to the horrible conclusion that romantic love may not actually exist. This was done mostly after I heard that Eric and Jessica had broken up with each other. They were one of those "perfect couples." The ones that made you believe love was possible, and that you could find someone out there that was Just Right, and would make you happy for the rest of your life. If those people can't make it, what does that say for the rest of us?

Now I am going to iron some shirts and ponder what I shall make for dinner.

I am so fucking bored, but I feel like doing nothing else but wander around in my robe and striped pajama pants and work on growing a beard.

I seem to be getting worse, instead of better, so I drove the 3-minute trip over to Urgent Care to get myself looked at. Doctor Ireland (how cool is that?) set me up with about $30 worth of antibiotics and cough medicines and sent me on my way.

Even though I'm sick I seem to have this almost-fanatical need to keep my house absolutely perfect. I think because I was home so much this week I was able to clean it up, little by little, until Everything is in it's Right Place.

Of course this could just be another sign of my impending nervous breakdown.

I had another one of those dreams last night where I was friends with an internationally-acclaimed rock/folk star. Usually it's Bob Dylan and we sit on his porch talking about this and that. This time, though, it was Johnny Cash and he lived next door to the Loy's Department Store in Sandwich. Matt and Mike were there as well, and we crouched behind cars, watching Emmylou Harris exit his apartment.

Mike was unusually tan.

This was Old Johnny Cash, the one with white hair and without June Carter. For some reason he had decided to rent an old apartment on Railroad Street in my hometown and I was lucky enough to be aquainted with him.

That's all of the dream I can remember.

Now I'm headed back to my couch and an assortment of DVDs, books, and cough drops. Mom is going to stop by for a few minutes, which will be wonderful, because when you're sick, that's what you really want.

Your mom.

**UPDATED**

Apparently my mother has become a Class-Howard Hughes Germaphobe, and didn't want to come visit me on her wait out to dinner with some of the family. So now all I have are my new slippers to keep me company...



Duder has the same pair. What I really want are the Bear Claw slippers that Brian W. has. Those would be sweet indeed.

Damn sickness. I could be drinking Goose Island Christmas Ale out of his keg right now. But instead all I have are multiple episodes of Da Ali G Show to watch.

Check it.

This doesn't really make sense.

I get really pissed off when people slobber all over Family Guy like it's the greatest thing ever. Come on, people; that show is but a pale ripoff of The Simpsons. It will never, ever reach that show's unparalleled greatness. And yes, I'm watching it now. If only for the random joke that's kind of funny. "Don't forget the taint."

The Brown Barn burned down brightly tonight in my hometown. I don't even think I could really explain what The Brown Barn was. Last I knew it was an antique shop. For a while MBA's parents turned it into a failed clothing store. Before that? I can't even remember. But it's something that every person in Sandwich knows, and more people have called/emailed me tonight about it.

That's what growing up in a small town is like. When a semi-famous building burns down, everyone goes ape-shit.

Lost really sucked ass tonight. NOTHING happened, except for the last 30 seconds. I could really give a shit that Shannon didn't get to go to New York, or that Ana Lucia once again demonstrated that she's a cold-blooded bitch.

The word "absurd" just keeps rolling around in my head lately. Since I've been home sick I've had some time to contemplate my role in the universe, and all I do is come back to the word "absurd."

It's a word that doesn't get used correctly very often. We think that it means "crazy" or "weird." As in, "That's so absurd, man!!"

Absurd more often is used to describe the belief that the world has no essential value or purpose. In other words, we live in an irrational world devoid of meaning.

It's very existential, and it basically describes my core beliefs.

I tend to believe we make our own meaning in this world, and I don't really follow any "outside" interference.

Lately, work is absurd to me, and love is absurd to me. There is no inherent meaning or purpose to them these days.

Friendship, family? Those have meaning to me, and I have it up the wazoo. I have loads of friends and family, always ready to get together. I'm very lucky that way.

Bleah, enough of this. I'm just rambling, scared of going to bed and facing a night where I can't sleep. All I've done for the last two days is sleep. Will I be able to close my eyes and let slumber find me quickly, or will I obsess and chew and allow my brain to be flooded with all of my fears and anxieties?

I'll let you know tomorrow.

I think I've got the bird flu.

I need movies and a box of kleenex and 2 liter bottles of Fresca (it's back!) and Halls cough drops (the menthol kind) and some bland food and pillows on my couch and a sweet, loving female to take care of me through my sickness.

Being sick always makes me even more self-centered and whiny than usual. I'll close now, and return to my couch of comforts.

Feel sorry for me, Earth. A 99+ degree temperature and a sore throat could be the end of me...

Wait, wait, wait, wait.

Two cheerleaders were arrested because they were having sex with each other? While drunk? In a bar? In a bathroom stall?

My God, it is happening. It is really happening.

The Way of the Porn has arrived.

If anyone sees any hot nurses suddenly start making out with each other, or if your tightly-wound corporate-type boss suddenly lossens her conservative hairstyle (along with your belt), report back to me to verify if this is really happening.

Honestbush will be very happy.

"Remember, Remember, the 5th of November..."



400 years ago today a group of Catholic extremeists led by Guy Fawkes attempted to blow up the British Parliament, with King James I and anyone else along with it. James was known to treat Catholics like shit, burning churches and murdering Cathloic priests. The plot failed, Fawkes was exectued, and every November 5th Britain and other U.K.-associated countries light bonfires and burn Fawkes in effigy in honor of the failed Gunpowder Plot.

At the same time, Fawkes is seen as a cheeky hero of people who would sometimes love to see their governments blown to pieces. After all, Fawkes was attempting to bring an end to Catholic persecution by the crown.

You'll see an echo of this story next year, when V for Vendetta finally makes it to the big screen. It was to have come out this weekend, but a nervous Hollywood pushed it back until next year, fearful of the "terrorist" overtones of the film.

This is also the one that has the shaved Natalie Portman head.

This would have been a good Halloween costume.

Happy Guy Fawkes Day, everyone!

Mrs. Duder wasn't alone this year...

Here's the original inspiration:



And the others...



Tiff apparently has been doing Britney for three years now. Any chance of seeing the pre-Kevin costumes, Tiff? You are teh hotness of the world you know.



The above pic is courtesy of Tony Pierce's Halloween 2005 Buzznet gallery, wherein you will find pics of myself, Sylkk, XTX, and others.

What's weird is that the Duders and I came up with that one night at their house, thinking we were so original. Maybe they should have gone with the Daddy Warbucks and Pregnant Annie costumes. Now that would have been original.

"Everything is proceeding exactly as I have foreseen it."